What do you do?

Canterbury Blade

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You are heading to a community do that is celebrating ten years of a community co operative in Dalston. You've been out with your mate all afternoon and the missuses are joining you for an early evening pint in the garden.

Life is good in the world. We've got a manager with promise, you've been to the Clapton heart, The crooked billet and the auld shillelagh (off the lash and on the lash). You've even found a record shop you dint know about. The weather is warming up and you head to the boozer.

You enter and after ordering 5 points pale ale you sit down and watch the quality MILFs parade. You smile, take a sip and look up and then you see a feckin streak of beacon hanging behind the bar. A feckin pig scarf. You ask the pretty bar maid what is that and she points to the feckless waistrel in the corner sipping cheap lager. "Ask him I think he's from sheffield" the crumpet pipes up.

I say " mate whats that its a disgrace". He says "oh you a blade then?"

I say of course and he giggles between his yellow teeth and pasty face.

So what do you do?

Missuses arriving imminently, community event about to start and your exonerated by such piggery.
What do you so?
 

Knock him out, and pay for your lawyer by selling the scratchings
 
Your mistake was engaging in diplomatic chat

First strike was your only real option

With the Scarf on fire, he would have needed to make the decision ...................
 
Drink your pint and smile. It just reaffirms the knowledge that there's always someone worse off than you no matter how bad life gets.

Or buy a bottle of pils, drink it and smash the fuckers teeth out with the empty bottle.
 
Tell him he better head to the sty. The queue for the final tickets is tailing back right up to High Green.

Lots of fat porkers in the queue have shirts on that say Sanderson on them.

When he's gone burn it.
 
You are heading to a community do that is celebrating ten years of a community co operative in Dalston. You've been out with your mate all afternoon and the missuses are joining you for an early evening pint in the garden.

Life is good in the world. We've got a manager with promise, you've been to the Clapton heart, The crooked billet and the auld shillelagh (off the lash and on the lash). You've even found a record shop you dint know about. The weather is warming up and you head to the boozer.

You enter and after ordering 5 points pale ale you sit down and watch the quality MILFs parade. You smile, take a sip and look up and then you see a feckin streak of beacon hanging behind the bar. A feckin pig scarf. You ask the pretty bar maid what is that and she points to the feckless waistrel in the corner sipping cheap lager. "Ask him I think he's from sheffield" the crumpet pipes up.

I say " mate whats that its a disgrace". He says "oh you a blade then?"

I say of course and he giggles between his yellow teeth and pasty face.

So what do you do?

Missuses arriving imminently, community event about to start and your exonerated by such piggery.
What do you so?

I think what I do is ponder on the crisis of modern masculinity, buy a carrot juice and retire to the beer garden to read the Guardian.
 
You remain diplomatic about the situation , you smile knowingly showing your pristine pearly whites ,
laughing at the ignorance of the low life .
Offer to buy the pig a congratulatory white lightning , wish him well for the final and walk away with your head held high , knowing we'll always be better then them .
Or you,could just simple glass im , and move on to a less lowlife establishment.
UTB .
 

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